The Journey
by wajag
Summary: Methos meets a now Immortal Rebecca again


Highlander Fan Fiction by Wajag  
  
Disclaimers...surprise! I don't own any of the characters from Highlander. This is a follow-up to my fan fiction titled The Path (you should probably read that one first). This one is unrelated to my other fan fiction series. See the notes at the end for my references. Rated R for sexual content.  
  
Many thanks go to Laurie, for listening to my ramblings for hours while I worked this one out. Her enthusiasm and interest have assuredly kept the wind in my sails.  
  
*****  
Stubbornly, a semi conscious Methos urged his tired horse on. After bandits had attacked him, he'd lost track of the passage of time. It was early evening, but was it the same day of the attack or the day after? He'd been out several days from the last village, with at least another day until he reached the Abbey of St. Anne's where he'd planned on resting and replenishing his supplies. He'd broken camp that morning and had wrapped his cloak tightly around his body, trying to escape the constant drizzle that seemed a part of this countryside. By the time he began to think about making camp for the evening, he was paying less attention than he should to his surroundings, and more to his discomfort. He'd been rudely pulled from his thoughts, by the sudden toss of his horse's head.  
  
He'd trained this horse himself, so he trusted its senses and had instantly drawn his sword from the scabbard on his saddle. He tossed back the hood of his cloak and quickly scanned the woods surrounding him. His horse flicked its ears all round. He was surrounded then. Not wanting to have to fight several attackers at once, Methos kicked his horse into a run, hoping to outdistance the trouble. He'd only gone twenty feet before several men jumped out of the tree line and into his path. Without slowing down, Methos swung his sword in a side-to-side slashing charge he'd perfected while he'd been one of the Horsemen, and neatly stopped a few of his attackers. The next few attackers, stunned by the brutal and quick dispatch of some of their band, hesitated long enough for Methos to pass by nearly undisturbed. He was out of their reach in seconds.  
  
Methos heard angry shouting behind him and smiled. Guess they expected him to stand and fight fair despite the overwhelming numbers! Not when his neck was at risk! Methos thought to himself. Methos snuck a quick look back to see a group of men standing in the middle of the road behind him. As he congratulated himself on a handy escape, Methos felt a sharp pain in his back. He heard whistles close by as the bandits released several more arrows at him.  
  
Methos urged his horse to move faster. He gripped its mane with his hands and leaned down onto its neck to present a smaller target. He'd gone several miles down the road before he eased his horse to a halt. As he began to straighten up in the saddle, he was nearly overcome with pain. Reaching back, he tried to grasp the quarrel just below his right shoulder blade. Grimacing in pain, he tried several times before accepting that he couldn't reach it himself.  
  
Panting, he struggled to fight off the dizziness. Not good, Not good, he chanted to himself. He couldn't heal if he couldn't remove the quarrel. If he didn't get the quarrel out, he'd bleed to death or be unable to defend himself. His right side was already becoming numb and his vision was beginning to tunnel.  
  
Knowing that the road ahead led to St. Anne's and that it was a day's travel, Methos knew he had few options. He struggled to slide his sword back into its scabbard, before lacing his hands tightly into the saddle leathers to hold him in place. Leaning forward onto his horse's withers again, he urged it forward into a slow but steady walk.  
*****  
Edward the Footman was closing the door of the stable for the night, when he chanced to look out the Abbey gate and spotted the rider. "My Lady! A rider approaches!" He shouted as he ran to pick up his sword and get a better look. He heard his shout repeated as someone else passed the word to Lady Rebecca. He stood ready for her command.  
  
Melucine heard Edward's shout and repeated it as she dashed for the door. She opened it and stood waiting for Lady Rebecca to arrive. In a rustle of cloth, Lady Rebecca joined her and looked towards the rider just nearing the gate. Melucine glanced at the woman as she looked out towards the gate and courtyard. Lady Rebecca was a beautiful woman, a lady in every sense of the word. She moved with a grace and elegance that in no way reflected her upbringing as the adopted daughter of a village blacksmith. But Lady Rebecca had over two millennia to perfect her grace and elegance, Melucine thought. For the Lady Rebecca was one of the Immortals, a race that could not die unless you cut their heads off. Melucine knew this because she was one of the Watchers, a secret society of historians and researchers that observed and recorded Immortals. Melucine had been the Lady Rebecca's Watcher for nearly ten years.  
  
There was another Watcher here at St. Anne's Abbey, the place that Lady Rebecca called home. Edward the footman was also a Watcher. Between the two of them, they were able to observe and record the Lady Rebecca full time. With the use of carrier pigeons, they sent their updates to her Chronicle to Watcher Headquarters, currently located in Paris. Lady Rebecca's life as an Immortal was pretty quiet, with only a few challenges a year and even fewer students. The Lady Rebecca's most recent student Amanda had only left a few months ago to begin her life as an Immortal on her own. All in all, a most satisfying assignment Melucine thought.   
  
"He's injured, get his horse and bring him inside." Lady Rebecca shouted as she stepped out of the doorway and onto the courtyard.  
  
Melucine moved to follow Lady Rebecca but had to stop quickly or run into her ladyship's heels. She saw Lady Rebecca freeze and assume a tense and alert posture that signaled another Immortal within her sensing range. The injured stranger must be the Immortal, she thought and sent the hand signal to Edward.  
  
Edward nodded and grabbed the horses' reins carefully. "He's barely conscious." He shouted.  
  
Lady Rebecca approached the stranger with her hand on the hilt of her sword, but kept it hidden in the folds of her cloak.  
  
With obvious difficulty, the Immortal straighten in the saddle. Achieving a semi erect posture, he said in a raspy voice, "I mean no trouble. I was told this was Holy Ground."  
  
"It is. If you respect Holy Ground then you are welcome here." Lady Rebecca said firmly.  
  
"I want no trouble." He repeated, having trouble getting his breath. Edward was sure that the arrow had pierced the Immortal's lung as he heard him say, "If you'll be so kind as to pull this quarrel from my back, I'll soon be on my way."  
  
Rebecca nodded. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for a hot meal, perhaps a hot bath as well?" She asked gently. Standing this close, she recognized the rider and she very much wanted him to stay.  
  
"Food would be most appreciated." Methos said, thinking that he'd agree to almost anything to get this damn arrow from his back! He could always decline the offer of a meal and ride on, after it was removed.  
  
"Edward, help our guest down." Rebecca said as she stepped to take the horse's reins.   
  
Methos groaned despite his best intentions as the footman pulled him from his saddle. His whole right side stabbed with pain. He swayed slightly before recovering his balance and a breath, careful not to let the footman restrain him. He needed to be able to reach his daggers if he were threatened, Holy Ground or not!  
  
Edward carefully offered his support to the rider as he staggered. Despite Lady Rebecca's confidence, Edward was worried about alarming the injured Immortal. He had little doubt that the injured Immortal would react first and think later if threatened. The Immortal was in a very dangerous position. He'd be hard pressed to defend himself with the quarrel still imbedded in his back, and it was obvious that he needed help to remove it. The Immortal knew it too, that would make him very wary and jumpy. Edward had seen first hand how dangerous Immortals could be, even the injured ones.  
  
Methos watched closely as the Lady of the Abbey pulled his sword and scabbard from his saddle. She slowly and cautiously extended it to him and tucked it up next to his right hand.  
  
Methos took the offered sword and grasped it tightly to his side. He didn't want the other Immortal to see that he couldn't grasp the sword in his shaking hands.  
  
Rebecca noticed how injured the Immortal was but schooled her face into a polite smile. "This way please." She said as if everything was normal and the Immortal was walking without the help of Edward. She nodded to Edward as she noticed his careful support of the Immortal. She was secretly pleased to notice that the Immortal was taller than she was, even hunching over in pain. She had still been a young woman when she'd seen him last. He was as handsome and compelling as she remembered.  
  
It was only a short distance, but Methos felt like he had walked several miles by the time they reached the Abbey's kitchen. He hated the fact that he was relying on the strong arm of the footman to remain on his feet. He was extremely relieved when the Lady's Maid pulled a bench from the table and he could sit again. As gracefully as he could, he put his sword up on the kitchen table in front of him. He kept his left hand on it while relaxing his right arm down to his side, trying to ease some of the pain that was still shooting through his body.  
  
Rebecca observed his actions and thought through her next moves. She wanted to keep him from being alarmed or injuring any of her servants. Using her most reassuring voice she spoke, "Let's try and get your shirt off so we can see what we have to do."  
  
Methos kept his eyes moving, trying to keep track of the three people in the room.  
  
Realizing this and to ease his mind, Rebecca sat down across from him and said, "Edward, why don't you fill that basin with hot water. You can sit down until we're ready to have you pull out the quarrel. Melucine, why don't you see if you can get those things off him so we can look at his wound."  
  
Realizing what she was trying to do, Edward filled the basin and setting it beside the Immortal, he stepped back to sit down in easy sight of the injured man. Melucine patted the Immortal's arm maternally and putting on her most motherly voice, she talked as she worked.  
  
"You poor dear. I'm going to pull off this fine cloak. Easy does it, it will hurt a bit as I lift it over the quarrel." Continuing she smiled, "The cloak is easily repaired Milord. The jacket will hurt a bit more." Gently she slid his jacket off his left side before pulling the back of the jacket over the shaft of the quarrel. She grimaced when she saw him flinch as she accidentally snagged the jacket on the shaft. A rush of fresh blood poured from his wound. Ignoring the new blood, she slowly slid the jacket off his right arm. Feeling some unusual weight in the jacket, she ran her hands over its folds. Slowly and in sight of the Immortal, she removed a dagger from each sleeve, another longer blade from the lower back area, and finally removed a purse of coins. These she placed in front of the Immortal before tossing the jacket onto the bench with the cloak.  
  
Gently she pulled apart the edges of the linen shirt to look at the shaft embedded into his back. The wound was still bleeding and angry looking. "The shirt is a loss I'm afraid Milord." Carefully she ripped it open and tossed it off to the side.  
  
Rebecca caught the eye of the Immortal and stood slowly. She walked to look at the wound. "It nicked your shoulder blade and pierced a lung, but I'll wager you already knew that. Edward should be able to pull it out but it will be painful."  
  
Methos nodded. It was taking all of his strength and concentration not to pass out.  
  
"Would you care for some herbs or ale? I'm afraid that's the best I can offer." Rebecca asked.  
  
Methos shook his head. He was having enough trouble staying conscious and alert.  
  
Edward stood and stepped behind the Immortal. Rebecca stepped to the Immortals' left side while gesturing Melucine to his right. Rebecca felt better about her ability to hold onto the Immortal's good arm. If he were to swing or move about in pain, it would be with his uninjured arm she thought.  
  
"Are you ready?" Edward asked.  
  
Before the Immortal responded, Rebecca spoke to him in the language of her village. A language she knew he spoke, but also knew that her servants didn't. "We're going to have to hold you so Edward can pull out the shaft. My servants both know about my rapid healing ability. They won't be alarmed at anything they might see. I trust them to be silent."  
  
Methos looked at the Lady in surprise. She was speaking in one of the dead languages. "How do you know this language?" He asked in the same language.  
  
"It's the language of my childhood. Are you ready for us to begin?" She said hoping to distract him.  
  
"What is your name?" He asked still in the ancient language. His eyes darted to the maid's wrist and saw the tattoo identifying her as a Watcher.  
  
"Rebecca Horne." She said.  
  
Edward and Melucine looked at each other. They didn't understand what the two were saying but they knew enough to recognize it as an old language. This made the Immortal at least as old as the Lady Rebecca! Melucine saw the Immortal's quick look at her wrist. He looked up and into her face, as if memorizing her features. She knew that he knew about the Watchers. This made her very nervous. She swallowed and glanced over to Edward.  
  
Methos couldn't see the wrist of the footman, but knew if the Lady's Maid was a Watcher, the footman probably was too. "Get on with it." He rasped. He wanted to get out of here. He'd managed to stay out of the Watcher Chronicles for centuries and he wanted to keep it that way.  
  
Rebecca nodded and took a firm grip on the Immortal's shoulder. Melucine took a grip of his other shoulder and braced her feet. Edward took the quarrel in his hand and tensed. "On three then. One. Two. Three!"  
  
The quarrel pulled smoothly until the arrowhead caught on his shoulder blade. The arrow had rotated after hitting the shoulder blade, before going deeper into his body. Edward quickly realized what had happened but not until after it had caused the Immortal even more pain.  
  
Methos tensed his body when the footman counted to three. He pulled against the pull of the footman; sweat running off his fevered body as he struggled against the pain. His head dropped onto his chest as the arrow finally pulled free. He breathed as deep as he could with his injured lung, clenching his teeth to keep from passing out.  
  
Melucine released his shoulder and grabbed at the linens she had put on the table. She firmly held the cloth against the wound to catch the rush of blood that followed the removal of the quarrel. The Immortal slumped against the table, panted raggedly.  
  
Rebecca dipped a cloth in the basin and wiped the Immortal's brow gently. Unconsciously she stroked his shoulder when he shuddered.  
  
Melucine moved her hand and the cloth away when she felt the first tingles of the healing. She and Edward watched closely as the Immortal's Quickening blue sparks jumped across the wound. They looked at each other with an acknowledging nod when they saw how rapidly the Immortal was healing. The wound was closing before their eyes. This confirmed their opinion that this was an older Immortal.  
  
Methos took a deep breath and straightened. Finally able to focus on something other than not passing out, he looked over at Rebecca. "My thanks."  
  
Rebecca smiled. Are you ready for something to eat now?"  
  
Methos nodded. Since they hadn't made any threatening gestures since he'd been there, he was willing to stay long enough to get something to eat. Now that he was not feeling pain, he realized that he was starving.  
  
"Edward, why don't you make sure his horse has been taken care of. And bring him a change of clothes from the storeroom." Looking at the Immortal with a smile she apologized. "They won't be as fine as what you're accustom to, but they will be dry at least."  
  
Methos smiled. "After traveling in this dampness for several fortnights, I'm sure they'll feel like the finest silks."  
  
Melucine snuck a look at the Immortal. His voice was lovely now that he wasn't having trouble breathing! His clothing and cultured voice marked him as an aristocrat; his hairstyle marked him as a Saxon. She studied his features trying to determine where he may have been born. He had a handsome face, his profile resembling that of Roman's, but his pale skin and coloring placed him somewhere else. His eyes were his strongest feature, seeming to be green one moment and brown the next, occasionally flashing gold as something caught his attention.  
  
She looked closer at his body, now partially exposed to her eyes. She had thought him slight when she'd first seen him, the billowing cloak only reinforcing that illusion. Now that she had a full view of his torso, she reevaluated her opinion. He was broad shouldered and lean, his muscles clear and well defined, speaking of great strength despite his lean frame. His flat stomach and tapering sides hinted that the rest of his body was as well muscled and cared for. A fine figure of a man she thought with a smile.  
  
Catching Melucine' eye, Edward nodded and walked from the kitchen.  
  
Melucine nodded at Edward and looked for an excuse to remain in the room and listen to the Immortal's conversation. She slowly gathered up the bloody rags and the Immortal's clothes and set them in piles to take away later. She moved to the hearth and grabbed a bowl. She ladled a generous portion of the leftover stew from dinner and put it in front of him with a wooden spoon. She stepped to a pantry and returned with a large hunk of bread. "Tea Milord?" She asked with a smile.  
  
Methos nodded. Forcing himself to eat slowly despite his hunger, he dug into the stew.  
  
"May I ask your name milord?" Rebecca said wondering if he would give her the name he had given her when they'd last seen each other.  
  
Methos looked at Rebecca and reflected on a name to give. In between bites he spoke. "Mathew Pierce. I was attacked by some bandits in the woods about a day from here."  
  
Melucine set the tea in front of the Immortal, keeping as non-intrusive as she could. She set another mug in front of the Lady Rebecca.  
  
"You've had that quarrel in you since yesterday?" Rebecca asked. She was surprised that he was still conscious when he'd arrived at her gate!  
  
Methos nodded. He glanced at the Lady's Maid that was trying to remain invisible so as to listen to their conversation.  
  
Rebecca noticed his glance. She suspected he was keeping his silence because of her servants. "Can I have a bath prepared for you?"  
  
"I would be most grateful." Methos said. He was feeling pretty filthy after what he'd been through.  
  
"Have one of the guest rooms prepared and a bath made ready."  
  
Melucine nodded. "Will there be anything else Milady?" When Rebecca waved her off, Melucine hustled from the room after grabbing the pile of repairable clothes. She found two of the chambermaids in the hall and sent one to clean and repair the cloak and jacket, the other to prepare the room and the bath. "Tell me as soon as the room and the bath are ready. Now hurry off with you now!"  
  
Melucine stayed as close as she could to the kitchen so that she could hear Lady Rebecca call for her.  
  
After the maid had left the kitchen, Methos lowered his voice and switched to the ancient language they'd been using earlier. "Where are you from Milady?"  
  
"It was once called Mycenae." She said in the same language.  
  
"I think we have met before." Methos stated. Something about this woman was familiar but he was having trouble remembering where they'd met before.  
  
Rebecca nodded with a smile. "I'm surprised that you remember. I was just a young woman then. You saved my village."  
  
"I did." Methos said with a sinking feeling this had been during his Horsemen years and he hadn't saved it at all. He shifted the spoon to his left hand, ready to grab for his sword with his right hand.  
  
Rebecca noticed his body tense. He still moved like a wild cat. Her mind pictured a cat freezing in place right before it attacked. He went completely still while all of his senses focused on her. His eyes changed color, darkening while the rest of his face remained still. "Yes. The Horsemen rode in and attacked. You opened the side gates and helped me get people out of the village. My father was the blacksmith that struck you."  
  
Methos' memory captured the details as she spoke. That had been millennia ago. "And you think I saved your village." He stated, still ready to take up his sword.  
  
"I know you did. You told us to hide in the caves. After my father brought you there you told him how to fortify our village, to keep it safe from future attacks. My father listened carefully to what you told him. He made the improvements and the village was able to fend off attacks easily for many years."  
  
"You weren't Immortal yet." Methos remembered, feeling less threatened. Rebecca seemed truly grateful for his intercession in the Horsemen's attack on the village.  
  
"No, not for several years." She saw him visibly relax. Rebecca offered more information to keep him relaxed. "After the attack my father was selected to be one of the village elders. I was married to one of the wealthy merchants many years later. I was stabbed by a jealous servant and had to flee the city. After the Oracle told us we had to set you free, she told me that I must go to her when I woke with blood on my hands. I always thought she meant I would kill someone. I couldn't imagine myself ever doing that." Rebecca snorted, amused at her innocence. "I never imagined that the blood on my hands would be my own."  
  
"Who was your teacher?"   
  
"After I died, the Oracle sent me to Aganesthes of Tiryrs and he trained me into the cold hearted killer I am today." Rebecca answered.  
  
"Never cold hearted I think." Methos said quietly, understanding what changes she'd had to make. "It isn't in your eyes. Immortals should only kill other Immortals, and then only in self defense." Methos shook his head. "I guess it took me a long time to learn that."  
  
"I try." She smiled trying to change the subject. "More?" She said indicating the now empty bowl and mug in front of him.  
  
"Please." He answered. Rebecca refilled his bowl and mug. She refilled her own mug before sitting down again.  
  
Methos nodded. "A good man, even if he wouldn't tolerate beer." He smiled, and then softly said, "I was sorry to hear that he was killed."  
  
Rebecca nodded. "He never would listen. I said he couldn't stay in the same spot for centuries without moving. He made himself too big a target."  
  
Methos nodded. "I told him that several times myself."  
  
"Methos?" At his startled look she continued, "What happened to the Horsemen? I've always wondered. The Oracle said that you had to go back to them in order to stop them. I cried when I saw you ride off with the others. You left our area right afterwards." Rebecca ducked her head, embarrassed. "I followed you when you left the caves."  
  
Methos shifted uncomfortably. She had a right to know what price her village had paid for the Horsemen. "I felt you following me. I kept myself far enough away so that the others wouldn't feel you."  
  
Rebecca nodded. "I didn't know about Immortals then. What about the Horsemen?"  
  
Methos shrugged. "I led them into the Roman Empire. We easily overwhelmed the villages and caravans we were attacking, but I knew we couldn't go up against the organized army of the Romans. I convinced my brothers that the riches of Rome were ours for the taking. It took less than a decade for the Romans to force us to flee in different directions. I just kept running instead of going to our agreed upon meeting spot. I hear that they're still looking for me."  
  
Rebecca nodded, affirming in her own mind that the Oracle had spoken true and that they had done the right thing. "And are you truly Methos again?"  
  
Methos was confused at her question before he thought back to that conversation they'd had in the cave when he'd been held prisoner after her father had knocked him out.  
  
"What is your name?" She asked quietly.  
"Death." He answered, still not looking at her.  
"That is your mask, but who are you under the mask?"  
She was afraid that he wasn't going to answer when she heard the whispered words, "Methos, I used to be Methos."  
  
"I'm only known as Methos to a very few people." He said seriously.  
  
She nodded understanding his thoughts. She answered, staring into his eyes. "It would be dangerous to be the mythical Methos. It's widely believed that you are the oldest of us all. Then you shall always be Mathew to me."  
  
Methos stared at her, his eyes turning a burnished gold. They seemed to burrow right through to her inner thoughts. Weighing, appraising, and measuring her soul before he smiled and his eyes returned to a greenish brown. "Thank you, again I am in your debt."  
  
Rebecca smiled and Methos felt a stirring in his groin. He smiled and relaxed.  
  
Hearing footsteps coming towards the kitchen Rebecca said, "Now, how about a bath and a bed for the night?" She asked hoping he would accept. She realized that he had never really accepted her offer before.  
  
Methos grinned. "Sounds like paradise."  
  
Rebecca blushed. His relaxed smile did the most amazing things to her heartbeat!  
  
Melucine entered the kitchen. "Milord's bath and bed are ready Milady."  
  
Rebecca nodded and stood. "If you'll follow me?"  
  
Methos stood and collected his weapons and coin purse. He followed Rebecca and Melucine down the hall and up some stairs. They walked down a hallway before stopping at a closed door. Melucine opened the door into a room warm with a crackling fire. Tapestries hung on the walls to keep the cold out and a large pedestal bed sat in the middle of the room. Heavy drapes were tied to the bedposts and the quilts and linens were turned down.  
  
A steaming bathtub sat just off from the fireplace, the dry clothes he'd been offered along with his saddlebags, on a chair nearby. A table with a wine decanter sat next to the tub with a goblet ready for use.  
  
"I'll leave you to your bath. Please call for one of the servants if you think of anything you need. Should I have a servant refresh the fire during the night, or would you prefer to be left undisturbed?" Rebecca asked. She didn't want any of her servants to find a knife or sword at their throat if they disturbed him.  
  
"I'd prefer to tend it myself." Methos said. He knew he would be sleeping lightly as it was.  
  
Rebecca nodded. Melucine left the room and waited in the hall for her. Methos stepped to Rebecca and reached for her hand, lightly brushing it with a kiss while holding her eyes with his. "Good night then Milady. My thanks for your generous hospitality this day."  
  
Rebecca blushed and smiled, watching him through lowered lashes. She turned from the room when he released her hand. She hurried to her room at the end of the hall and slipped into her own waiting tub. Methos still made her heart race and her body tingle! Her girlhood crush had been unaffected by the many centuries since she'd last seen him. She closed her eyes and felt his hand on hers again. With a smile, she used her imagination and felt the touch of his hand on other places of her body.  
  
*****  
Melucine hurried to the kitchen where Edward waited. "Did you get any ideas of who he might be?"  
  
"No, he's a clever one. He has coins sewn into most of his gear, saddle and saddle pad, even his jackets. I couldn't tell where the coins were from without him knowing I'd searched his stuff. He did have a journal in his bags. I recognized a few of the words but it seemed to be written in several languages. I made a copy of some of the markings to send with the next packet to headquarters. Maybe the researchers will recognize him."  
  
Melucine sighed. "Bertram will be angry at us if we can't figure out who he is. Best send out a pigeon in the morning so someone can pick him up when he leaves here. Be sure and mention that he recognized my tattoo."  
  
Edward nodded. "It's a shame that Whitread is Watching Amanda right now. He has the entire Immortal roster memorized along with their descriptions."  
  
"A shame as well that neither of us can draw a straight line. A drawing would make it easier for research to name him." Melucine smiled. "He is a handsome one isn't he? Milady was blushing like a schoolgirl when he kissed her hand."  
  
"If anyone can get him to stay longer, it would be Milady." Edward smiled.  
  
*****  
Methos woke early the next morning. He'd slept lightly, but well. Rebecca was far enough away that her presence hadn't brushed his, and no servants had trod the hall outside his door. He poured some water from a pitcher into its matching basin. He pulled his toiletries from his saddlebag and shaved. He noted that his things had been disturbed. He scowled at the intrusiveness of the Watchers in general.  
  
He quickly scanned through his journal to make sure it was intact. As a practice, he used dead languages when he wrote in his journals. He did this mostly to stay in practice, but also to keep them private. Satisfied that no pages were missing, he put it back into his saddlebags.  
  
Finished with his morning labors, he put his things away and slipped on fresh clothes. He belted his sword on and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. He headed for the kitchen in the hopes of getting something to eat.  
  
In the kitchen he was greeted by a thin woman that had not been present the night before. She nodded towards the table, "Good morning Milord. Melucine said you might be joining us this morning." After he sat, she put a bowl of porridge and a mug of tea in front of him. "Had a bit of trouble on the way here did you? A person isn't safe away from their own doorstep anymore." The woman continued to fill the room with chatter while he ate.  
  
Melucine walked into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of the Immortal. He was a handsome one; even more so all cleaned up and rested. His eyes glittered with amusement at Emmelda's normal chatter. Melucine hoped that Lady Rebecca would be able to convince him to stay longer. That would give Edward and her more opportunities to discover his real name. "Did you sleep well Milord?" At his nod, Melucine continued. "Milady will be pleased to hear it. She'll be joining you shortly. Please let me know if there's anything that you need."  
  
Methos nodded at the Watcher and smiled at Emmelda as she set a refilled mug in front of him. Emmelda had been a good source of information about the Abbey's occupants. Methos always made it a point to cultivate conversations with the resident busy body where ever he went. Emmelda informed him that Rebecca's most recent student had only left a short time ago. The young woman hadn't been very popular with the household. Seems she had been a thief from off the streets. Methos thought to himself that it would only stand her in good stead as an Immortal. Growing up in the streets would have made her tough, clever and flexible in her thinking.  
  
Methos looked at the doorway as he felt the first tingles of an Immortal's presence. Melucine noticed his look and shifted so that she could watch the doorway. She counted to herself until she saw Lady Rebecca enter the room. Nearly fifteen counts before she arrived! That means that unless Lady Rebecca stopped to speak with someone, the Immortal had sensed her some distance away! Melucine and Edward had an ongoing discussion about the sensing range of Immortals. Melucine thought that the older an Immortal got, the further their sensing range got. Edward felt that it was entirely up to the location of the Immortal. She smiled as she thought about the conversation she would have with Edward about this Immortal.  
  
Rebecca smiled, pleased that Mathew had remained for breakfast and not disappeared in the night. She sat down beside him and took a sip from the mug that Melucine set in front of her. "I trust you slept well Mathew?"  
  
Methos smiled. Holding her eyes with his, he took her hand and kissed it. Smiling as he answered. "I slept better than I have in many fortnights. Your hospitality is most appreciated."  
  
*****  
They talked while Rebecca ate her breakfast. Afterwards, Rebecca gave Methos a tour of the Abbey. They started at the roof and worked their way down. Methos took note of the many homing pigeons in the coop on the roof. That would be something he'd have to change before he left. He had no doubt that some of these birds were trained to return to the nearest Watcher offices. Methos had no intention of making it easy for the Watchers to keep up with him when he left.  
  
As they moved through each of the floors, Methos made a mental note of the escape routes and ways to get out of the Abbey un-noticed. They ended up in the stables, where a nicker from his brushed and well-fed horse greeted Methos.  
  
"You have a fine animal." Rebecca said, eyeing the horse's conformation and breeding.  
  
"Thank you. I bred and trained it myself."  
  
"I remember what a fine sight you were on your pale horse." Rebecca teased, leaning into his body just a little.  
  
Going along with her teasing Methos said, "I remember how beautiful you looked in the bright sunshine of the marketplace. The sun placed a halo about your head and your eyes sparkled like jewels." Methos caressed her cheek gently with the back of his fingers.  
  
"I'm sure you only noticed me because I was a pre-Immortal." Rebecca said, hoping to keep him talking.  
  
"That only got my attention, your beauty caught my eye and kept it. It was that beauty that I remembered when I saw you later, in the streets." Methos whispered into her ear as he leaned in closer.  
  
Edward made sure he kept very quiet. He didn't want either of the Immortals to know that he was hiding close-by. So this Immortal had known Lady Rebecca before she was Immortal! This was going to make a stir at headquarters!  
  
The Immortal pulled Lady Rebecca into his arms and gently kissed her. Edward was pleased to see that he gave her every opportunity to pull away from his embrace. He was a gentleman no less. Lady Rebecca gave no indication that she wanted his kisses to end, in fact she melded her body to his and her hands pulled him closer caressing his shoulders and back. The kiss ended when one of the barn cats jumped on the stall partition beside them. The Immortals laughed softly and Lady Rebecca took his hand, leading them from the stable.  
  
Edward sighed in relief and peeked out the stable door before he moved to follow them. They were headed outside the gate. Edward trotted up the stairs to the parapet where he found Melucine. He smiled at her. "They were kissing in the stables, perhaps Lady Rebecca will convince him to stay." When she looked at him he continued, "We were right. He is older than Lady Rebecca. They first met before she became Immortal."  
  
Melucine sighed in frustration. "I still wish that Whitread were here. We're not going to be able to put a name to him unless he speaks it!"  
  
Edward nodded. "Small chance of that happening. Lady Rebecca only calls him Mathew and most of the time they are speaking in that older language. If I hadn't been so well hidden, I probably wouldn't have heard what I did." Edward complained.  
  
Melucine and Edward took turns keeping the two Immortals in sight for the rest of the day. The two Immortals kissed several more times throughout the day and seemed unable to keep from touching each other. It became clear that Lady Rebecca would not be sleeping alone that night. No one was surprised when they were instructed to prepare a bath in Lady Rebecca's room and retire for the evening. Milady would be tending to her own fire this evening.  
  
*****  
Methos lightly kissed along Rebecca's neck as she leaned back against his chest. His talented fingers teased her breasts into pert peaks, causing her to squirm in delight. "The water's getting cold, shall we dry off and move to someplace warmer?" He asked.  
  
Rebecca arched her body, exposing her neck to him and pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands. The shivers that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the chilling bath water and everything to do with what he was doing. Hungry for more she stood and faced him, the water making her body glisten in the firelight. She reached her hands out to draw him to her.  
  
Methos stood in a fluid motion and pulled her body into his. His tongue teased at her lips until she opened them, greedy to taste his passion. He easily picked her up and stepped out of the tub. Grabbing one of the linens left for them, his teasing tongue following the linen as he dried her.  
  
Methos swept her up again and stepped to the bed. He laid her on the bed and she moved to the center, pulling him after her. Methos stretched his body out beside hers, his hands caressing her body. Together they moved in a dance as old as time. He shouted her name as he came, his face reflecting his intense pleasure.  
  
Carefully Methos shifted his body off of Rebecca's and stretched out beside her. He reached down and pulled the comforter over their sweaty bodies and pulled her into his arms. He lightly kissed her shoulder.  
  
Rebecca sighed in satisfaction and turned her head until she could kiss his forehead. She snuggled closer into his body. "What a wondrous gift you have given me Milord." She purred.  
  
Methos chuckled. "Your inspiration I assure you."  
  
"And a few millennia of practice I'd wager." She added with her own delighted laugh.  
  
"A few perhaps, but I still insist it was the inspiration." Methos countered.   
  
Rebecca was satisfied to lie in the warmth of his arms. She thought he'd fallen to sleep when he kissed her shoulder and spoke softly. "What happened? With the Oracle I mean, I can't remember anything after she touched me."  
  
Rebecca turned so that she could look Methos in the eyes. "Do you really want to know?"  
  
At his nod she closed her eyes and pulled up that memory. When she had it she continued. "She touched you and you passed out. She went into a trance and said that you were Death, but you were life. You were trapped in pain and anguish. You carried the pain of all that had fallen beneath your sword and the swords of your brothers. You were the conscience of the Horsemen and the Key to their destruction. She said if you didn't return, your brothers would grow stronger in revenge for your death. They would become unstoppable. If you returned, they could be stopped. She said you were already firmly on the path to stop the Horsemen. Then she saw into the future, did you want to hear that too?"  
  
Methos thought about that before he answered. "It wasn't that prophetic." Rebecca said when he hesitated. Methos smiled then nodded.  
  
Rebecca smiled. "She said you were the scribe of the ages. You were there in the beginning and you'll be there at the end. As one of the Chosen, you would know what will defeat the darkness, and be the guardian of the Champion. You alone can command the light."  
  
Methos settled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The scribe part made sense; he'd been keeping a journal since writing began. Which would be almost like the beginning. He liked the idea of being there at the end; he wasn't ready to give up his head anytime soon! The darkness could have been his time with the Horsemen; it was definitely a dark time in his life. But the part about being one of the Chosen, being a guardian of the Champion and commanding the light that was uncomfortable!  
  
Rebecca snuggled into him again, resting her head on his broad chest. "Does any of that mean anything to you?" Rebecca asked.  
  
"If it did, I'd have reached my destination instead of still being on the journey right?" Methos said changing the subject instead of answering her question. To keep her distracted, Methos pulled Rebecca on top of him and kissed her. His hands caressed her back and buttocks.  
  
Rebecca shifted her position and straddled his hips, revitalizing his erection. Her distraction was complete in a matter of seconds as she lifted her body to receive him.  
  
When she lay close beside him again, Methos brushed a few strands of hair from her sweaty face. "Although I can think of many reasons to linger longer, I'm needed in Normandy. I must leave in the morning Rebecca." Methos caressed her face with his hand.  
  
"I'll miss you. I'm glad that trouble brought you to my door. You're welcome to return anytime Mathew." Rebecca said earnestly. She reinforced her words with her hands and lips.  
  
Methos slid his hands down her womanly curves. "I will most certainly remember my way here."  
  
Knowing that he would leave her in the morning, Rebecca turned her body into his once again, intending on making the most of this time she had left.  
  
*****  
It was mid morning when Amanda burst through the gates of the Abbey and quickly dismounted from her horse. Amanda was Rebecca's student and had only recently left her teacher and the safety of Holy Ground to explore the world on her own. Amanda tossed the reins to Edward who had stepped from the stable. Inside the Abbey, Amanda felt a strange Immortal presence, stronger than that of her teacher. Afraid, Amanda hoped that the Saxon that had been following her had not gotten there ahead of her. Amanda's fear added volume to her voice. "Rebecca! Rebecca!"  
  
She was relieved when Rebecca met her on the parapet in her nightclothes and a cloak. It wasn't the Saxon presence she'd felt then. Amanda cast aside the thought of the other presence as she quickly explained to Rebecca what had happened.  
  
Melucine listened from the other side of the door as Rebecca chastised Amanda for running from a challenge. Melucine smirked. What did the Lady Rebecca expect from gutter trash? Despite the touch of guilt she felt at her lack of Christian charity, Melucine was pleased when Rebecca told her student that she had to accept the Challenge, she hadn't been in training for years just for nothing! Melucine heard a horse's approach and a man's voice call out a Challenge to Amanda.  
  
It was a little more than an hour later when Whitread the Tinker stood on the parapet with Melucine and Edward and watched Amanda recover from the Saxon's Quickening. A movement caught his eye and Edward cursed as he spotted a familiar horse and rider cantering on the road and away from the Abbey. "He slipped out while we watched the challenge!" Edward turned and rushed to the roof, closely followed by Melucine and Whitread.  
  
"Who?" Whitread shouted, confused at Edward's frustration.  
  
They stood in shock at the empty pigeon coop that greeted them on the rooftop. "He's freed the birds!" Edward tossed his hat down in anger.  
  
"We knew he was a clever one Edward." Melucine said. She turned to the still confused Whitread. "We've had a mysterious Immortal visitor these past two days. He was an older one without a Watcher, he knew Lady Rebecca before she became Immortal. We haven't been able to figure out who he was yet."  
  
"And the birds?" Whitread asked.  
  
"He recognized the Watcher tattoo." Melucine said.  
  
"What did he look like?" Whitread asked. Whitread shook his head after hearing the stranger's description. "He could be any of a handful of Immortals, and that's just the ones we've lost track of. I wish I could have seen him." Whitread leaned over the edge of the roof. "Amanda and Lady Rebecca are returning to the Abbey."  
  
Melucine said, "I'd best be getting down to take care of things then. I'll check Milady's room to see if he left a note." Melucine hurried off. She needed to reach Rebecca's room before Rebecca did!  
  
"This was an older Immortal you say?" Whitread asked Edward as they slowly walked down the stairs that would take them to the courtyard.  
  
Edward nodded. "He had an arrow in his back when he first arrived. He healed faster than I've ever seen even Lady Rebecca heal, and it was a deep and deadly wound. He and Lady Rebecca spoke in one of the old languages so we couldn't learn much about him. I copied a few symbols from his journal. Just to see if headquarters could recognize it.  
  
Methos cantered his horse away from Rebecca and St. Anne's Abbey. He grinned as he watched a handful of pigeons wing their way towards Paris. He'd freed the birds before he'd slipped to the kitchen and helped himself to some food. Then he'd slipped out to the stables and readied his horse while the Watchers and Rebecca watched the challenge. No one noticed him slipping out the gates and cutting across the fields to the road.  
  
When they'd been interrupted in bed, Rebecca had explained that the voice was that of her student, only recently sent off on her own. Recognizing the opportunity to leave unnoticed, Methos had kissed Rebecca and said his goodbyes. She had returned his kiss fiercely before she'd rushed from the room to see to her student. Before closing the chamber door behind her, Rebecca had smiled and reminded him that he was welcome whenever he found himself this way again.  
  
*****  
Watcher Report of the Lady Rebecca Horne  
As observed and recorded by Melucine  
In the year of our Lord 853  
  
... It was midmorning and the Lady Rebecca was still abed with the handsome and mysterious gentleman who arrived on the heels of Amanda's departure. Amanda burst through the gates calling for Rebecca. Milady slipped on a robe and covered her head from the rain before slipping from her visitor and chamber. Lady Rebecca seemed very anxious to keep Amanda from seeing her mysterious gentleman. Amanda's interruption was much to the consternation of the gentleman whose name we were only given to believe was Mathew Pierce. As to his age, I once chanced to hear him cry out in the heat of a man's passion "Xanthea" which I know to be one of Lady Rebecca's names in the ancient chronicles. Edward chanced to overhear the gentleman and Lady Rebecca reminiscing about their first meeting, years before she become Immortal.  
  
After Amanda returned victorious from her challenge of the Saxon warrior Whitread identified as Hengist, Lady Rebecca 's mysterious lover was gone, as quickly as he had come. After his disappearance, we discovered the release of the pigeons kept for our purposes. An action Edward and myself attribute to the mysterious gentleman who recognized our Watcher tattoos. Whitread informs us that no Mathew Pierce exists on the Immortal roster, so we believe it to be an assumed name never having had occasion to learn otherwise. Edward includes a tracing of some writings from the gentleman's journal. He chanced upon the journal while searching for clues to the identity of our visitor. We can only hope that there will be someone there that can make some sense of it...  
  
Bertram re-read the contents of the packet he'd received that morning. He tossed the manuscripts away in frustration. Surely they had trained these field Watchers not to let an Immortal slip away like this? He looked to his assistant and indicated the manuscripts. "Did Whitread bring this in?"  
  
His assistant nodded. "Whitread said he'd arrived too late to see the Immortal himself. The descriptions that Melucine and Edward gave him were too general; tall, pale skinned, dark-haired, hazel eyes, lean of build. We sent a rider on the road to ask after a Mathew Pierce, or someone matching his description. We don't expect to catch up to him, he could have gone several directions after he left the Abbey."  
  
"Get research working on it then."  
  
*****  
After several weeks and having passed through several more sets of hands, the manuscripts stopped on the desk of Antoine Pasquat. All of the manuscripts that referenced unknown Immortals were routed to Antoine. Antoine was the head researcher in charge of the Methos chronicles. Methos was believed to be the oldest of the Immortals still living. The Watchers believed that he still lived because a Quickening as powerful as his had not been reported. Sadly, Methos himself hadn't been seen for several hundred years, not since his Watcher that he'd befriended had died of old age.  
  
Antoine read the description offered by Melucine and Edward. He pulled the manuscript with the sketches of symbols that had been included. He couldn't read the symbols but they reminded him of some of the writing he'd seen from Egypt. A long dead language he'd been told.  
  
Antoine's son Philip looked over the stack of manuscripts he was working on. "I think it was Methos."  
  
"And why do you think that my son?" Antoine asked, fondly smiling at the young man that was following in his father's chosen career.  
  
"The description matches. He was older than Lady Rebecca, he spoke several languages fluently including a dead one, he knew about the Watchers and he out witted them easily." Philip said with an air of conviction. "It had to have been Methos. No other Immortal is even close to matching that description."  
  
"Philip, you find Methos in every reporting that comes down here." Antoine said kindly.  
  
"His last Watcher said Methos was clever and well traveled. I won't believe that he's cloistered himself off in a monastery to wait out the centuries. He's out there, seeing and doing and blending in with the rest of us mortals."  
  
"Perhaps you're right Philip, but we will never know for sure will we?" Antoine said. He stood and crossed the room, gently putting the manuscripts into the box against the wall labeled with Rebecca's name.  
  
Antoine chuckled. Despite his son's assertions, this report would continue to remain Unknown Male Immortal in Rebecca's chronicle.  
*****  
Watcher Headquarters - Research Archives 1994  
Adam Pierson opened the chronicle in front of him and began reading. He'd heard too late that Luther had killed Rebecca. Before he could go after Luther himself, he'd found out that Duncan MacLeod had taken Luther's head. As long as someone had, Adam thought.  
  
He turned back to the chronicle. After that first meeting, he'd returned to Rebecca's Abbey many times over the centuries. He smiled as he read the Watchers observations and frustrations at trying to discover his identity. Rebecca had continued to call him Mathew. He stared at the chronicle and let his memories go back to the beautiful reddish-blonde haired woman that had met him as Death, but welcomed him as Life.  
  
The End   
  
References:  
The New Watcher Chronicles CD - Lanko Miyazaki, Davis/Panzer Productions. Inc.  
What Life Was Like In the Age of Chivalry - Time Life Books - Alexandria, Virginia 


End file.
